


Beware the man who saves the lives of killers. For he walks with demons who do his bidding.

by Mirdala



Series: Blackwatch Week 2017 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch (Overwatch) - Freeform, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Blackwatch Week, Blood and Gore, Graphic Violence, Gun Violence, Original Character(s), Ruthless McCree, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirdala/pseuds/Mirdala
Summary: The mercenaries don't know how badly they messed up by taking Reyes. His agents aren't good people but killers. Who will do anything for the man who saved them.





	Beware the man who saves the lives of killers. For he walks with demons who do his bidding.

**Author's Note:**

> Blackwatch Week -  
> Day 2: Breaking Rules / Teamwork  
> Day 6: Lifesaver
> 
> This is violent. Blackwatch was special ops. The agents were former criminals. These are not nice people. Read the tags.
> 
> No beta-reader. All mistakes are my own.

[ DAY 2 ] **BREAKING THE RULES / TEAMWORK**

[ DAY 6 ] **LIFESAVER** / RECOVERY

 

A steel cable bites into his wrists. Ankles are done in a similar fashion, a length of cable wrapped and cinched tightly. This is their second attempt to restrain him. Hanging him from a beam in middle of a warehouse after he ripped out of the plastic cuffs. Super solider strength was notoriously difficult to account for when taking a prisoner. Gabriel inhales deeply through his nostrils gathering phlegm and blood from his nose at the back of his throat. He spits it in the face of his captor when they moved in to punch him. The man curses, wiping his face with the back of his hand. A fist slams into Gabriel’s face. His body spins lazily, giving him one more chance to take in details of his current surroundings. At least four others in the room with him. Not at the docks anymore, by the lack of gull calls, no smells or sounds of the sea. Instead it smells of metal and grease, little bit of burnt rubber mixed in. Beams are rusted. Paint chipped or flaked off completely of pretty much everything. Floor is dusty easily making out the foot track around the room. Overcast sunlight coming in through the partially closed warehouse door and open windows in the rafters. Awfully careless, he thinks. More warehouses along with vehicles outside. Table in the corner with food wrappers. He flares his nostrils, such complacency.

After two full spins, Gabriel laughs in between each jab into his sides and gut. “You’re all so fucked.” This isn’t his first rodeo. Granted it is a first since he’s been in Blackwatch, but being captured isn’t anything new. His captors, mercenaries budding into arms traffickers, are likely as practiced with taking and torturing people. Jack and Ana are never going to let him live this down. It all brings a smile to his face.

“Give us names. Safe house locations.” A hand grips Gabriel at the neck of his black tactical shirt pulling him close to the soon to be dead man beating him.

“Let me go before they get here and you’ll live. Well…” The hand tosses Gabriel back, making him swing back and forth from his restraints. “no promises.” Gabriel utters off handedly.

“Before who gets here?” Gabriel catches the slight swipe of two fingers in the air that sends one of the four mercenaries out of the room. Gabriel waits for their footsteps to fade away before replying with a wide grin.

“You ever save someone’s life?” He asks, knowing these people weren’t in the business of saving lives but rather ending them.

Gabriel’s head snaps to the side from a hit to his jaw. He brings his face back to unperturbed to continue.

“I have.” Gabriel remembers the destruction McCree had cast, riding a motorcycle shooting a revolver at his agents with accuracy that made Ana raise an eyebrow when she watched the footage. “Know what happens when you save the lives of criminals? The lives of born killers?” Foss running, flashes into his mind, straight ahead of Jack and Reinhardt charging into Omnics during the Crisis with nothing more than a pistol, machete, and barely fifteen years of an existence, cutting everything within reach to pieces.

Gabriel looks at the face snarling at him, waiting for an answer. They want him to talk, figure a beating would work what they want out of him. It would take them months to break Gabriel if they did it right. They don’t know it but Gabriel is the one holding all the cards at the moment, with two pocket aces.  

“You become their saving grace,” Gabriel continues, voice laced with just an edge of mirth, “their goddamn lifesaver. A savoir.”

His body shakes from cackling. “You’re fucked.”

 

_ /\/\  _

 

“Agents McCree and Foss, you are to stand down until a replacement command— “

Click. The channel dies.

McCree feels the heat from Strike Commander Morrison fuming halfway across the world.  In front of him is the warehouse where mercenaries are keeping Commander Reyes. McCree looks to Foss, his partner in crime since he joined Blackwatch. Foss’ head tilts toward him offering a lit cigarette between black gloved fingers.

Mercenaries fucked up. He slides the final round into Peacekeeper’s cylinder, gives it a quick spin before a flick of the wrist clicks it into place.

Assholes took the boss.  McCree takes the cigarette and inhales. Foss is busy rifling through a bag, pulling out arm’s length box of munitions.

The man who saved their lives. Smoke floods out of his nose before he flicks it to the ground.

McCree, an ex-gang member running weapons and drugs, hefts up the launcher onto his shoulder and tips his hat back. Foss, a damn near war criminal from the Crisis, pats his empty shoulder.

Shouldn’t have taken the boss.

“Howdy.”

 

_ /\/\  _

 

This isn’t a quiet affair. No slit throats with soft gurgles. Or whispered shots slumping bodies to the floor. No, McCree makes sure of that when he aims the rocket at the fuel tank on the other side of the building holding Reyes. The explosion shakes the buildings and bones of those nearby. Throws shrapnel into the vehicles and people standing in front of the entrance of the warehouse. The chaos erupts instantly as McCree shrugs off the launcher. The sights and sounds of fire, panicked shouts, more explosions from a second rocket, and wild gunshots lull him into a serenity, a calmness that focuses his mind. He welcomes it. Walks straight into the storm spurs clinking. He pulls Peacekeeper into his hand.

“Bang.”

A merc’s body spins from the force screaming in pain, knee blown clean out from under them. Not expecting gunfire from their right flank when the rocket had been straight on. _Bang._ A shot to the face stops the next one dead in their tracks as they turned to face the incoming fire. _Bang. Bang._ Two shots hit center mass, another merc drops. McCree spins to the side, red serape flaring behind him. A gift from the King himself. Two knives fly pass, emerging from his shadow. The blades sink into the chests of two fools charging toward him. McCree follows through with his last two shots finishing off what Foss started, kicking one who fell into his path aside with the heel of boot.

The pair of Blackwatch agents cut down everyone they see. Some lay on the ground clutching knees and shoulders, joints shot out rending them useless. Sides splits open, hamstrings sliced, holes from blades removed after being twisted down to the bone. They left carnage behind them as they made their way to the warehouse door.

Shoulder to shoulder, McCree and Foss press their backs to door of warehouse. They feel the heat from the fuel tank as they reload. Foss flashes a bloodlust smile his way, pulls the pins of three grenades then flings them into the warehouse. Three bursts followed by shouts is his mark to enter. “What time is it?” Foss calls as McCree steps over the threshold.

The figures in the room are hunched over, blinded by the flashbangs Foss used. McCree takes these few precious seconds to aim carefully. His world slows to the spaces between heart beats. He takes in each and every face, looks them dead in the eye. Sees their expression of shock, fear, or acceptance. _It’s high noon_. Five faces. Five bullets. Five bodies hit the cement. The world rushes back in, hits McCree like a truck. He staggers. Foss grabs his arm using momentum to swing him around out of harm’s way behind a crate to recover. McCree looks up just in time to see Foss leap onto then off the crate coming down hard on a merc that showed up late to the party. McCree shakes his head, the overload to his senses waning. He reloads. Uses a kick off the crate to get himself moving.

He catches up with Foss who stands back to the hanging form at the back of the warehouse, pistol at the ready. McCree moves in, Foss turns to follow as soon as he passes. The flames of fury relight when they see their lifesaver. Their savoir. Reyes hangs blood flowing from slashes on his face and his nose. He isn’t conscious. Foss searches for the controls to lower him. McCree wraps his arms around Reyes’ waist. His weight drops into McCree when Foss cuts the line. A grunt escapes from his bloodied mouth. His body tenses against the arms around him. McCree watches as an eye opens just enough to look over his and Foss’s face. Together they unbind him. Wipe the blood from his face as much as possible. Hands and touches gentle. McCree shakes with rage when Foss stands abruptly before walking off. Over his shoulder he sees Foss walk from body to body inspecting hands. Looking for the one who did the damage they see on their commander. McCree’s eyes narrow when Foss drags a merc by the boot back to him. The merc’s hands have the telltale sign of pummeling someone. He isn’t too bad off. Foss had shot him in the foot and gut. If he received medical attention he’d might even survive. Carefully, McCree tucks his folded serape under Reyes’ head before peering down at the merc Foss pinned with a boot on his gut.

“You were warned.” Foss whispers out, gaze on Reyes rather than the merc. McCree leans in when the merc’s eye twitches. “Should of listened.”

The merc moves to spit at McCree. But McCree is fast and angry, clamping a gloved hand over the merc’s mouth painfully tight, twisting to force their eyes on Reyes.

“He tried to save your life. Keeping you from the hellions he has leashed.” McCree presses Peacekeeper into the merc’s right shoulder. “A kindness you spat on.” The revolver fires, the scream echoes in the warehouse. “Allow me and my dear friend here,” a second shot fires into the elbow of the arm trying to grasp as the destroyed shoulder. “to show you the extent in which you fucked up.”

 

_ /\/\  _

 

Gabriel has a small smile on his face. His skin itches at the taped edges of the bandages and along the stitches. The tablet in his hands shows a single image. A merc is strung up by a leg, a puddle of blood, vomit, and piss beneath him. Chest skinned in places, burn marks branding the exposed tissue. Parts of him were mangled, held together by sinew alone. Demons unleashed from hell had left the merc to be found. A message. A vow. A tap sends the image back into his personal secure database. Gabriel leans back resting against his pillows eyes sliding to the side. Next to the bed are his demons sleeping peacefully, knowing that back at their sides is the man who had saved their lives.


End file.
